


When ghosts and goblins come out to play

by adraztea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adraztea/pseuds/adraztea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John really likes Halloween, but for some strange reason Sherlock refuses to dress up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When ghosts and goblins come out to play

**Author's Note:**

> A quick Halloween story in which I might have stolen a thing or two from Joss Whedon.
> 
> Happy Halloween! May the creatures of the night stay just as far away from you as you want...

"Oh, come on, Sherlock! It's not that much of an effort." 

The man on the sofa didn't even look up.

"No. I will never put on a costume."

John sighed. It was October 31st, Halloween, and as far as things-the-Americans-stole-from-us-and-returned-all-covered-in-plastic-and-commercialism, it was something he quite liked. He had even gone through the trouble of buying not only a costume for himself, but also one for his flatmate. Not that said flatmate had even bothered looking at it. If Sherlock had, he would have seen that the vampire outfit took even less effort than getting up from the sofa would. After all, it was only a black cape and a pair of fangs.

"The one night all the ghosts and the goblins come out of their hidey-holes, and you can't even be bothered to put on pair of fangs," John muttered and turned around to walk back to the kitchen. With a bit of luck, he would be able to get a cup of tea before the first round of trick-or-treaters came knocking.

"Actually, that's a misnomer."

John stopped in his track. 

"What?"

"The ghost and goblins thing. They don't come out on Halloween. Quite the opposite." 

"What are you even talking about?"

"Everybody knows that any self-respecting demon has enough sense to stay inside at Halloween," Sherlock said. "As they should. Why would anyone want to involve themselves with such a blatant cultural appropriation?" As he spoke, Sherlock lifted himself up from the sofa and walked across the room to stand in front of John. "And why would any ghost or goblin choose such a night to end all secrecy and reveal themselves to the world? Really John, have all the sweets you stuffed yourself with today completely liquified your poor braincells?"

John stared at the man in front of him. Sherlock looked just as serious as he did on any crime scene, and John had to rewind the conversation in his head. No, the conversation had indeed been about whether or not supernatural creatures went out on Halloween or stayed at home. 

"Sherlock... You do realise I wasn't talking about real ghosts and goblins, don't you? And furthermore, you do realise such things doesn't even exist?" 

Sherlock didn't move a muscle. Then he smiled, a slow smile that kept growing until it made his eyes shine. It was, quite possibly, one of the scariest things John had ever seen. 

Or at least it was, until Sherlock took a step back and laughed. It took John a second or two until his brain caught up, but then he gave Sherlock a shove and joined in on the laughter. 

"God, you really had me there. I was seriously considering the possibility you had lost your mind."

"No, my mind is as fine as ever," Sherlock said with a smile. "You should have seen your face."

"One for the grandchildren, I'm sure. So, are you ready to put the outfit on?"

"No." Instead, Sherlock reached for his coat. "Get your jacket. We're going out."

"What? We are? But... the sweets, and the kids, and the..." Despite his protests, John had already put his jacket on and was following Sherlock down the stairs. Sherlock shouted out for their landlady as they reached the end of the stair, and Mrs Hudson looked out from her flat. 

"What's all this noise, Sherlock? I'm right here, no need to shout."

"John here is a little worried about trick or treaters turning up at our door and not getting any sweets. Surely you'll take care of everything?"

John smiled a little in apology, but Mrs Hudson just nodded.

"Yes, of course, but Sherlock... are you going out?"

"Yes, quite important, need to fix something, and look at John, all dressed up like that, can't expect him to just stay at home now can you?"

Sherlock rattled of the sentence at such a speed that they were already outside before John realised what he had said. Dressed up. Right. The costume. Dressing up as a green monster with black stitches all over his face and some screws through his head had seemed like a good idea when he had thought he was staying at home, handing out cheap chocolate, but much less so now that he was standing in the middle of Baker Street.

"Ah, right. Sherlock. Where are we going?"

"Trust me."

"I generally do, but right now I'm outside, dressed up as Frankenstein, and people are staring." 

"No, you are not." Sherlock stopped a taxi and they climbed in the back. "You're dressed as Frankenstein's monster, not Frankenstein, which actually would have been a little more appropriate for you considering Frankenstein was a doctor. Or, well, mad scientist, but that's almost the same thing, at least in some cases. And people are no longer staring, because we are no longer outside in the strictest sense, and where we are going the least of your worries should be what you're wearing." 

John couldn't help himself; he laughed. 

"You're impossible." 

"Most of the time," Sherlock agreed, but he smiled as he said it. "Ah, we're here." 

John's grip of London's geography wasn't half bad, even if he didn't have the entire map of the city memorised as Sherlock did, but when they stepped out of the car he was honestly lost. They hadn't gone too far from Baker Street, which meant he should know the area like the back of his hand, but the dark alley was completely foreign to him. It wasn't to Sherlock, of course, and he led them to an unmarked door at the end of the alley. Three knocks, and then the door opened. 

John wasn't sure what he had expected to see behind the door, but a perfectly ordinary pub hadn't been it. But that was what it was. It looked just like any other pub in London, except maybe that it lacked windows, and just as any other pub in London on October 31st, the guest were a happy mix of perfectly ordinary people and people dressed up as all kind of monsters. 

"Beer?" Sherlock asked, and John nodded. He looked around the room and tried to find anything outside the ordinary. If Sherlock had decided to take him here, something must be amiss. 

Three beers and a glass of whiskey later, John was having a really good time, but he still hadn't managed to figure out why Sherlock had dragged him there. He told Sherlock as much, but his flatmate just smiled. 

"As usual, my dear John, you see, but you don't-"

"I don't observe. Yeah, I know," John interrupted. "Fine. I'm an idiot."

"Look again. Tell me what you see."

John sighed and did as he was told. 

"I see a pub, filled with people. Some of them in Halloween costumes. Some in perfectly ordinary clothes. I see you, sitting there with your posh red wine and your posh coat, and god, aren't you burning up in that thing? It's really hot in here." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"We're leaving soon, so no point in taking it off. What more do you see?"

John looked again. Really looked. Or, well, at least he tried to really look.

"Honestly, Sherlock, I have no idea. Just tell me, will you." 

Sherlock leaned closer over the table and lowered his voice. 

"I see... a two headed demon drowning her sorrows in bad beer. I see two goblins fighting over which one of them won the last game of darts; that wont end well. I see a chaos demon trying to pick up some company, and I see at least four vampires walking much too close to this table because you smell far too good. I also see that the bartender has just remembered that I lost him five customers last month, and that he's about to kick us out. Considering one never wants to fight with a demon of his kind, we're leaving before that becomes our only option."

John tried to ignore the cold shiver that ran up his back. Sherlock stood up and John looked over his shoulder at the bartender. The man undeniably looked angry, and leaving seemed like a really good idea. 

It had started raining outside, the kind of icy rain that left you really wet and miserable if you stayed outside for too long. John flipped his collar up and followed Sherlock to the main road where a taxi seemed to materialise from thin air. 

It wasn't until they were back at Baker Street that John allowed himself to laugh at his own stupidity. 

"So how was my face this time, then?" he asked as they walked up the stairs. "Better than earlier? The stories you can tell, Sherlock, they're pretty amazing." 

"And yet you haven't even heard the half of them," Sherlock said with a smile and threw his coat on John's chair. "Tea, John?"

"Coffee, I think. Need to sober up a bit."

He chuckled to himself and moved Sherlock's coat from the chair to the hook on the door. "Demons and vampires and monsters," he said to himself. "A pretty good Halloween, if I may say so." 

"Of course you may."

John jumped. Sherlock was standing right behind him, and when John turned around Sherlock almost pushed him against the wall.

"Christ, Sherlock, you're far too good at sneaking up at people. Scared me half to death." 

Sherlock smiled. 

"Only half? I must be losing my touch." 

John looked at Sherlock's smiling face, and then he smiled as well. 

"Would you look at that! It must be Christmas instead of Halloween, because I believe this is a miracle. You put on the fangs!" 

Sherlock's smile became even wider. 

"Oh, John. As usual, you see..."

Suddenly, all the air seemed to disappear from the room. John stared.

"...but I don't observe," he finished. 

"Exactly," Sherlock whispered. 

His lips were very, very cold against John's throat.


End file.
